


The Scientist

by vulcansmirk



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcansmirk/pseuds/vulcansmirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I need you to know why I couldn't let you die. Why I went back for you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scientist

**Author's Note:**

> Shortly post-STID.

Spock found Kirk on the roof of the hospital. The city glowed, flickered, and blinked into the distance, and the air was filled with the gentle hum of the forcefield surrounding the terrace. A light breeze trickled through its semi-permeable surface. The captain was a mere silhouette against the lights.

As Spock approached, though, the figure before him resolved into that of the man he knew. Even after the weeks that had passed since their conflict with Khan, Spock still found himself short-of-breath whenever he looked upon his friend. It was illogical, he knew, born of desperation, panic, and fear. He still felt the ache of loss somewhere in the dark chasm of his chest.

Kirk started slightly, perhaps hearing Spock’s quiet footfalls. He turned to Spock and smiled. The lights from around them and below them scattered like stardust across his cheeks, collected into nebulas in his eyes.

"Captain," Spock greeted him, formally. "I come bearing news of the  _Enterprise_ 's repairs.”

"Yeah?" Kirk’s smile widened. "How’s our lady doing?"

"Mr. Scott reports that he is ahead of schedule. He projects that she will be fully functioning within six months."

Kirk blinked. “That’s… that’s fantastic,” he grinned. “Goddammit, Scotty does it again. I think he purposefully feeds me time frames that are too long just so he can impress me.”

"Quite possibly, sir," Spock agreed. He paused. "I… also bear greetings from the doctor."

The captain quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

"Yes, captain. He wishes me to inform you… and sir, he asked that I phrase it exactly as he did," Spock explains, hoping it serves as an adequate apology. "He wishes me to inform you that ‘you’re goddamn stupid, and you should be in bed, not up in the cold wagging your tongue at all the pretty lights.’ Sir."

Kirk laughed, a full-bodied laugh emanating from the diaphragm.

"Good old Bones," was all he said.

A comfortable silence fell between them, and Spock stepped through it to Kirk’s side, directing his gaze across the San Francisco skyline. In spite of the forcefield containing them both, there was a certain feeling of vertigo associated with looking off so high a platform. Spock settled back on his heels.

When he glanced at his captain, though, Kirk was not looking toward the buildings. He was looking out, and up, a slight and seemingly unconscious smile tugging at his lips.

Spock supposed that the stars would qualify under Dr. McCoy’s definition of “pretty lights.”

Spock could not help but marvel at Kirk’s resilience. Barely one month after his own death, and already he seemed prepared to leap once again into the deep black night. Meanwhile, Spock still felt distinctly uncomfortable with the thought of letting Kirk onto a starship again. He was very grateful for the length of Mr. Scott’s repair work, shortened though it was.

He thought of a cool hand pressed against hot glass. He thought of that hand falling slack, of blue eyes draining until they were empty as the void.

Those same blue eyes turned to him now, and they were full. Full of light, full of color.

"Captain," Spock started, quietly, then started again. "Jim."

Kirk’s lips quirked up. “What is it, Spock?”

"I… I know it is illogical." He stopped. Looked down at his hands, resting on the concrete wall. "I know this, and yet I cannot deny… My mother would tell me not to try to deny it, yet that is all I wish for. But I cannot."

Spock felt the pressure of a hand on his arm, just above the wrist. Kirk squeezed gently, and Spock met his gaze. He appeared concerned.

"What is it?" he murmured.

Hesitantly, Spock raised his free hand and placed it over Kirk’s, letting gravity hold it there, drawing strength from the cool of his human skin.

"I am sorry," he whispered. "I know what you will say, that it was not my fault, that it was your choice, and that it was necessary, but still I feel as though I failed you in some way. It is my duty to preserve your life, and yet I…" His tongue seemed to swell in his throat.

Kirk leaned in close, curling around Spock as though to embrace him, but the only part of him that physically touched Spock was his hand.

"You’re right," Kirk said, and Spock could hear the small, fond smile in Kirk’s voice, though he could not bring himself to meet his eye. "I am gonna say it’s not your fault. It isn’t. You know that."

Spock shook his head, sharply, once. “I still… feel guilt.”

Kirk squeezed Spock’s arm again, and when Spock looked up, he was smiling tightly. “Please don’t be guilty for me,” he said. “And hey, it wasn’t even permanent. No harm, no foul, right?”

The only response Spock could give to that was silence. Kirk knew as well as he did the fallacy in that statement.

Spock went on, against all his better judgment and all his carefully-cultivated emotional control. He felt a trembling building in his chest. “I do not only feel guilt for you,” he said. “I also feel… for me, I feel a great sadness, a bereavement.” He laced his fingers with Kirk’s. “You are here with me, and I see you, and I feel you, but I still feel as though I have lost you.” His voice dropped to a whisper, barely a breath. “I am afraid,” he said.

Kirk made no response. After a span, Spock looked up and found Kirk studying him.

"Do you know why I couldn’t leave you in that volcano?" he asked, incongruously. "Why I went back for you?"

He asked a question, but Spock saw in his eyes that he already knew the answer. He answered anyway.

"Because you are my friend," he said.

Kirk leaned in closer, so close that Spock could feel breath puffing against his cheeks, warm in comparison to the cool breeze. The lights still played across Kirk’s face, but his eyes fell into shadow as he pressed his forehead to Spock’s.

"Do you know why?" he breathed. His lips brushed Spock’s as he spoke.

Kirk’s eyes were half-closed and in shadow, but the blue there shone bright. It was as though he contained within him the light of the stars themselves.

Spock did not speak. Instead, he adjusted his hand so that two fingers massaged Kirk’s, and tipped his head forward until their lips touched.

The kiss was cool, and calm, and silent, stretching long into the hum of the night. Spock began to feel a warmth deep in his chest, like the heart of a star. The nascent trembling there dissolved.

Kirk pulled back, staring hard into Spock’s eyes. Then he smiled.

He pulled Spock into his chest, truly embracing him now, and Spock would not have allowed it under normal circumstances but he allowed it now, he wanted it, needed it, this feeling of solidity, of closeness. He drew his arms up gingerly around Kirk’s waist and let his head fall onto his shoulder. With his face covered, he even allowed a furrow to enter his brow.

"I know," Kirk murmured, his voice rumbling through both their chests, his arms secured firmly around Spock’s frame. "I’m here. I know."

Spock knew, too.


End file.
